


a sunny morning

by welcome_to_hell_senpai



Series: A series of indecent events [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Bondage, Choking - Freeform, Deepthroating, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism - freeform, M/M, Objectification, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Spitroasting, Threesome - M/M/M, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-08-26
Packaged: 2019-07-02 19:36:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15803184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/welcome_to_hell_senpai/pseuds/welcome_to_hell_senpai
Summary: How to wake up your toy, a guide by Bahorel and Feuilly.





	a sunny morning

“Nu-uh, be a good toy and stay quiet,” Bahorel said as another moan slips from Marius’ lips.

They were in the living-room of Feuilly’s apartment on the third floor and Marius was sitting on Bahorel’s lap, wearing only a leather collar around his neck, and grinding down onto the two fingers that Bahorel has buried inside him. That is to say, he tried to grind down but Feuilly had placed firm hands on his thighs and had his collar attached to the hooks on the ceiling by a short leash that prevented him from movement and forced him to be still or else the collar would choke him.

The curtains of the room were drawn open and fresh morning light streamed into the apartment, white and bright beams that illuminated their figures and offered a clear picture of their doing to the world. If someone were to look, there would be nothing to hide, nothing left to the imagination. Marius closed his eyes. He felt exposed and vulnerable and shame burned up inside him, yet... again, a choked moan escaped him.

Bahorel clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “Ah, I though we fixed that. This won’t do, will it?”

“Not at all,” Feuilly said and for a short moment, the hands disappeared from his thighs.

His thighs were trembling with the strain of being kept hovering in such a way but he sat still as he heard Feuilly move behind him. He was to afraid to open his eyes because Bahorel’s intense stare made him even more embarrassed and even more exposed than he already was. Still he could not say that he would mind.

With Feuilly gone, his brain was no longer focused on another person, so he focused on his surroundings instead. A window was open. He heard the cars of morning traffic rushing by and voices drifting up to him. The fresh morning breeze wafted inside the room and caressed his flushed skin, from softly ruffling his hair to over his exposed nipples that immediately perked up and down to cool the sensitive tip of his heady erection.

Then, Feuilly was back. One of his hands settled back onto Marius thigh, gripping firmly to correct his posture but the other hand pushed something cool against his lips and he parted them reflexively as the hard object was shoved roughly inside his mouth. The smooth surface of it slid against his lips, making his mouth widen and close along the shape of it until it settled deep in his throat. Marius spluttered and tilted his neck in order to allow it to slide deeper into him and to let the wide base of it rest against his lips. He licked along the plug as best as he could, swallowing against the bulge in his incredibly stretched throat, and focused on breathing through the nose. The plug was one of the biggest they own and Marius shivered at the thought of the little remote control that came with it.

But Feuilly did not care for the remote control. Instead he took hold of the vibrator and thrust it harshly into Marius’ mouth, muffling the moans that escaped The pace that Feuilly chose was punishing, harsh and fast and rough, thrusting through red swollen lips and forcing Marius down and deeper onto Bahorel’s fingers, accompanied by choked noises and the wet squelch of lube being pushed into a loosening hole.

They found a rhythm. Bahorel’s fingers were slow and firm and focused, a contrast to  the rough and bruising thrusts into Marius’ throat. Feuilly could see the bulge of the plug on Marius’ neck, how deep it went inside and how it moved up and down against the collar. Feuilly wanted to press his hands against the soft skin there and feel the movements of the deepthroated plug but for now he settled for watching Marius squirm and suck greedily. Marius’ eyes were half closed and rolled so far back that they could only see the white of the eyes. Drool dripped from the corner of his mouth, down his chin and neck while choked moans turned into choked half-sobs.

Marius shook and quaked with suppressed movement. Feuilly could tell by the twitch of his thighs that he tried not to move, tried not to wordlessly beg for more and yet his body subconsciously strained and tilted itself towards the source of pleasure. And when his climax was close, announced by the tension in Marius’ torso and the way he moved against the collar, frantically thrusting down onto the fingers and back into thin air — when the sweet release seemed so close, they stopped moving.

Feuilly took the plug out of Marius’ mouth, the smooth surface glistened slick and wet in the morning sun with a string of saliva still trailing behind. He rubbed a thumb against Marius’ red swollen lips and and Marius twitched forward, chasing the warmth and friction of that simple innocent gesture.

“No, please —” Marius said. His voice was hoarse and he felt empty now. A familiar gaping sensation settled in the back of his throat and he tilted his head, straining against th collar around his neck, to alleviate the craving that was left behind. He wanted his mouth to be filled again but neither Feuilly nor Bahorel made another move.

“Toys don’t speak,” Bahorel scolded. A big strong hand clasped the soft supple flesh of Marius’ thigh before it let go and struck down on the sensitive, delicate skin on the inside of his thigh. Marius yelped and jerked forward. A hot sting blossomed there, amplified by Bahorel lightly tracing circles on the reddening skin, feather-light, teasing and not enough. He moved his hips despite the collar choking him, tried to grind down on Bahorel’s unmoving fingers still buried inside him but there was not enough friction. His cock was leaking and red and hot and he needed to come yet his masters denied him.

Marius howled in frustration.

Feuilly cradled his face and then bit down on Marius’ swollen lips, tugged on it lightly and then devoured Marius in a savage kiss. His tongue slid into Marius’ mouth parted by a breathless moan that was swallowed almost immediately. Feuilly’s tongue was warm and thick and Marius let it explore and ravage his mouth, let Feuilly take the lead because Marius couldn’t. Marius felt claimed and conquered, and he let the feeling of being helpless fill him up until all his mind was focused on Feuilly, Feuilly’s hands cupping his face and roaming his body, nimble fingers tracing feather-light around his sensitive nipples before pinching down wickedly. The kiss didn’t last long. It was too short for Marius’ liking because just as he began to lose himself, Feuilly pulled away, leaving Marius unsatisfied and on edge and craving more.

Marius whined.

And then, something cool and smooth pressed into his entrance alongside of Bahorel’s fingers and a hand closed around Marius’ hard leaking cock. Marius moaned obscenely, unashamedly, and he sobbed in relief as he tried to move his hips for friction but there were hands on his thighs that prevented him from just that.

“Shh,” Feuilly said sweetly, “Be good.”

They moved in sync, thrusting and stroking, building up the pressure and tension in his stomach with each movement, and Marius squirmed and moaned because the pressure inside him is almost unbearable. And then, as the plug thrust against that delicious sweet spot once again, Marius came, hot and sticky, into Feuilly’s hand.

The leash unhooked from the ceiling and Marius, without anything holding him up any more, collapsed into Bahorel’s chest, spent and sated, a bit exhausted but definitely awake, and Bahorel stroked his hair as he tried to catch his breath while Feuilly cleaned him up. Bahorel’s hand was big and warm, and Feuilly’s were careful and gentle.

It was a good morning.


End file.
